


carry what you can

by weatheredlaw



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:51:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9180304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: Newt has a question he needs to ask, and he keeps going over it, again and again, trying to figure out the best way to put it. Tina Goldstein is a cautious creature, but compelled to care all at once. He needs to ask this gently.or: after losing his brother, newt needs time to heal. a certain porpentina assists. sequel to "from glory i run".





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm here with a follow-up to "from glory i run" and it's. long. not the longest, but it certainly got way out of hand. it's a mix of present day and flashbacks, which i've separated here. if you're not into the more explicit bits, theyre fairly separate from most of the work and can be skimmed or skipped over easily without losing the feel or story, because this is pretty plot/backstory heavy.

_who said it's easy, to be loved,_  
_when you look over your shoulder and only see the wasteland?_  
_just got to carry what you can,_  
_have the heart of a giant, but know you're a man._

 

* * *

 

It’s a hassle, finagling a portkey to New York, and then another that will eventually get him to the house on the coast – but Newt is hardly aware of the frustrated sighs of the Transportation Office employees, who are quick to remind him that his portkey to Spain is only good until tomorrow evening.

It doesn’t really matter. Newt has a question he needs to ask, and he keeps going over it, again and again, trying to figure out the best way to put it. Tina Goldstein is a cautious creature, but compelled to care all at once. He needs to ask this gently.

Arriving at their apartment so late at night is a gamble – this was how he came the last time, of course, but he’s gotten better (mostly) and is at the normal functioning level of a human being (for the most part), so he’s not afraid this time when he knocks on the door. It’s Queenie who opens it, beaming at him and enveloping him in her arms.

“Our Newt,” she murmurs.

“Hello,” he says.

She draws back, holding his face in her hands and really _looking._ Once, Newt may have pulled back, but he leans into this, and lets her see. “Better,” she says, and pulls him further into the apartment. “Tina’s still at work,” she explains, surrendering him to Jacob who wraps him in a hug intended to crush _bone._ “She’ll be home soon.”

“I’m also very happy to see you,” Newt says quietly.

Queenie shrugs. “It’s alright. I know you’re eager to ask her.”

Newt ducks his head.

“Ask her what?” Jacob set a few bowls on the table. “You’re not—”

“Nothing like that,” Newt says quickly, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I only want to ask…well I mean to invite her to—”

The door swings open, and Tina rushes in, tossing her jacket onto the couch. “I _hate_ New York in June. It’s so—” She stops, taking in the sight of him. Newt is pleasantly surprised that he can put such a halt to her step, and he rises from his chair, meeting her gaze and crossing the room to bend and kiss her cheek. “You’re back.”

“I am.” Worry clouds her expression, and Newt says quickly, “I didn’t flip any tables. Though I was asked by the Minister to, ah. Collect myself, once again.”

“He seems invested in your well-being.”

Newt looks down. “He was my brother’s mentor, for some time. I think he feels responsible for the both of us, in a way. Though he thinks we’re all getting a little ahead of ourselves.” Tina tips her head, confused. “Minister Fawley doesn’t…he doesn’t believe Grindelwald is a very serious threat.”

Jacob turns to face them, frowning. “He _does_ remember what happened here, right?”

“Fawley was elected for very specific reasons. None being his awareness of danger.”

Tina nods. “Well. I’m glad you’re here, whatever the reason. So long as it’s…it’s good.”

“My services are currently no longer required.”

“What’ve you been doing?” Jacob asks.

Newt and Tina finally separate, and he pulls out a chair for her before sitting down. “…A lot of things,” Newt says carefully. “It’s a delicate situation. Grindelwald is…a unique foe.”

“More dragons?”

“Among other things, but primarily, yes.” He smiles. “You remember.”

“I really wanna see a dragon,” Jacob says, settling into his chair. “I mean, we have those in America, right?”

“Of course. Rocky Mountain Greenhorns, Western Rusttails, Sonoran Stoneclaws. Quite a variety, actually. I’m particularly interested in the Appalachian Short-Snout. Perhaps another trip. Once everything is—” He waves a hand, feeling a bit like his mother – she refuses to say Grindelwald’s name, simply out of spite.

_(The one who took my Theseus._

_The one who broke my Newt.)_

They make gentle conversation through the rest of dinner, until Queenie and Jacob shoo Newt and Tina out of the kitchen, handing over two cups of coffee and ordering them to rest.

It’s here, finally, that Newt kisses her proper, cupping her chin in his hand, keeping a firm grip on his mug with the other. Tina pulls back, grinning, and says quietly, “Are you taking your leave here again?”

“…No.”

She pulls back a little further. “Oh.”

“It’s…complicated. I’m taking the summer, you see. My family has a house, in Spain. On the Mediterranean. It’s in a little wizarding town. Pavia, on the Costa Calida _._ ” Tina nods, completely uninterested, and Newt realizes that he’s done all this explaining without doing any of what he _wanted_ to do. “I’d like you to join me,” he says, not at all like he practiced.

Tina looks taken aback. “You…want me to go with you. To _Spain_?”

“Well, just a little part of it. But yes.”

“Until…”

“September.”

Tina nods. “Until September.”

“I understand that you…well your work is so very different from mine, and I see that you’re quite busy, every time I’m here it’s that way, but I—” Tina silences him, pressing her lips to his quickly.

“Let me sort it out.”

“You…want to go.”

“Yes,” she says. “Just give me a day or so.”

“I have until tomorrow night or else I’m going to lose my portkey. And while being here with you for the summer wouldn’t be the worst fate to contend with, I…I very much want to be on the coast. It’s beautiful there, Tina. Really. You’ll love it if you come.”

She nods. “I believe you.” She stands, now, stooping to kiss his forehead. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, and lets her take his hand and pull him to her room.

 

* * *

 

**_some months previously_ **

*** * ***

It’s the fourth time in as many minutes that Theseus has cursed Fawley’s name. “A damn _fool_ is what he is.” Theseus gestures toward the Ministry outpost. “This is all just to _humor_ me, he said. For old time’s sake.”

“Perhaps he believes there’s more of a threat than you realize—”

“He thinks Grindelwald will burn himself out, like he’s a candle lit from both ends. Doesn’t even realize how many we’ve rooted out of the Ministry in the last year _alone._ Thinks it’s a sort of game.” Theseus shakes his head. “He’s not going to last through this. They’ll see they’ve made a mistake.” He looks at Newt. “ _What?_ ”

“It’s just interesting to see you openly questioning authority.”

“Shut up,” Theseus mutters, but he’s smiling as he elbows his brother to the side. “Anyway, I wanted to show you what I’ve been working on. I’ve got a plan, for when everything goes to shit.”

Newt sighs. “Is that why you needed me?”

“Yes.” Theseus smiles, gesturing for him to follow. “ _This_ part hasn’t been approved by Fawley yet, but I don’t expect anyone here to go running back and giving away our secrets. Besides, I don’t think he’d really understand it. Make sure you take the proper path,” he adds, weaving through a few of the trees.

Newt follows, ducking under a particularly low-lying branch and zig-zagging around a large oak. The ground in front of him fans out suddenly, the grass sloping downward. He hears the earth trembling sounds, of course, before he sees their source, shoving Theseus to the side to get a better view.

“Merlin’s _bloody_ beard.”

Theseus laughs. “Oh I _knew_ you’d love it.”

“Where…where did you _get_ them?”

He shrugs. “Here and there. One we rescued from a camp of Grindelwald’s people. They clearly didn’t know what the _fuck_ they were going to do with it.”

There are, in varying spots, four different dragons. They’re smaller than usual, obviously young ones, though the Hebridean Black they took from Grindelwald is quite large, but subdued. Theseus heads down the hill toward that one specifically, shouting over his shoulder, “Isn’t it brilliant?”

“Um, I’m not quite sure _what_ you’re doing, so I really couldn’t say.”

Theseus turns. “We’re going to train these dragons. And then we’re going to use them to protect people.”

Newt stops still in his tracks, watching his brother continue down toward the Hebridean.

“You’re going to _what?_ ”

 *** * ***  

 

* * *

 

“So your family has…a house. In Spain.”

“Yes.” Newt checks his portkey approval one more time before finding the right room. “In here.”

“Why?”

“My great-grandmother on my father’s side is Spanish. She hated being away from home, so her husband built her a house in Pavia. We used to summer there when I was a boy, but after Theseus and I both went to Hogwarts we went less.” He hands the documentation over to a young woman, who nods and backs out of the room. Newt changes the grip on his bags. “I haven’t been since I was seventeen.”

The woman in charge of the portkey booth pokes her head around the corner. “Mr. Scamander—”

“Sorry.”

Tina hooks her arm through his. “I’m ready.”

Newt nods, and they reach for the rusted iron skillet being used as a portkey. Twenty second pass before he feels that familiar tug below his navel and the world _twists_ expertly, winding in on itself and tossing them about before it sets them down again. Tina stumbles to the side, and Newt catches her with his now free hand.

“Alright there?”

“Absolutely not,” she mutters.

“We’ll sort ourselves out.”

“If I’m not sick first.”

They make their way out of the cramped space the portkey dropped them into, stumbling into the familiar branch of the Transportation office in Pavia. The man working behind the desk is the same man Newt has met dozens of times before, all the summers his family worked their way through the Floo network to get there. Almost on cue, the fireplace in the office bursts to green life and a man steps out.

When Newt steps up to the counter with their paperwork, the man behind it looks at him for a long moment, before his mouth slits into a wide grin. “Newt Scamander.”

“Hello Mr. Vicario.”

“It’s so good to see you again, Newt.” He reaches out and grasps both his hands. “Truly. And you have a friend with you?”

“Ah, yes. Yes, this is Tina.”

Tina gives him a weak wave.

“The portkey has that effect on some of us. Breathe in that sea air, you’ll be right in no time.” He takes their papers and a large rubber stamp, imprinting the seal of Pavia in the lower left corner. “All set, Newt. And, please, accept my condolences for the loss of your brother.”

Newt flinches.

“We heard from Ricardo, at the bakery.”

“Of…of course. Um, thank you.”

Vicario nods. “You have a good day, Newt. How long will you stay?”

“Until September.”

“Wonderful. I will see you, then.”

Newt nods. “I’m sure,” he says, before leading Tina out of the office.

 

* * *

 

The time difference is disconcerting, at first, as it often is when Newt portkeys across the pond. They’d left at almost midnight from New York so it’s barely eight as they make their way through the gate and toward the house. Tina whistles low as they approach. “Very nice, Mr. Scamander.”

“It has its own bit of beach, you know.”

“I’m in _Spain_ with you, Newt. You don’t have to keep convincing me.” But she cranes her neck a bit to see over the hill the house stands on, pleased when she seems to see water. “Can we swim?”

“We certainly can.” At the top of the stairs, he rummages in his coat pocket, producing a large brass key and trying it in the door. When it opens, he’s hit with a sudden smell that rocks his perspective, for a moment, and has him struggling to catch his breath.

It smells exactly the way it did the last time he was here. With his brother.

_(“Don’t be a stiff, Newton, and get out on that beach.”)_

Tina reaches out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Newt?”

“I’m fine,” he says, but the words are practiced now, easily slipping out before anything else. Even if he wanted to tell her how he felt, even if he could find it in him to tell the truth – _I’m not ready for this, I shouldn’t have come here, I can’t **breathe** – _ he knows he’d still lie, without really meaning to.

Tina, of course, knows this too, as she knows most things. But she doesn’t press him for any more, just pushes the door further open and steps inside. She gives a little gasp “Oh, _Newt._ Newt, it’s beautiful.”

He follows, and it certainly _is._ His mother had been the last one to really leave her mark on the place, and she’d done it with all the grace one might expect of her. She and his father had taken his advice some weeks ago, and spent a few days here, just to be away from the house. Newt notices at once she’s moved several photos from the sitting room back at the estate and left them here, likely to avoid having to see them each day.

His seeing them is, of course, his own fault, having not informed her that he was going to the house in the first place. Newt swallows thickly, and reaches for Tina’s bag. “I’ll just…I’ll bring these upstairs. Do you want to check the kitchen? We might need to go to town.” He moves past her with their things before heading up the stairs to the east wing of the house.

The smell, he decides, will have to go. There’s a cleaning spell for that somewhere, he knows. In a book in the house, perhaps, his mother was always good with those. But he can’t spend more than a day here, wallowing in the scent of his last summer with Theseus, watching the memory of his brother bounding out the back door and down the hill to the beach play itself over and over in his head.

_(“They’re just girls, Newt.”_

_“It’s just a pint, Newt.”_

_“She’s only the first one, Newt.”_

_“I can’t figure myself out, Newt.”)_

“Newt?”

He turns, and Tina steadies herself against the door frame, peering into the room. She whistles again, glancing around the room that has always felt too large for just two people to share. “Newt, this house is…” She steps into the room. Newt drops the bags. “We should air it out, though. Don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he says quickly. He knows that his mother and father spent their few days here shut in or at the café, trying to pretend they weren’t suffering. He knows his father kept the shutters closed and all the doors shut, and his mother stashed the evidence of her eldest son’s vitality in every corner of the place and then _ran._

So, yes. Newt would like to open every window and every door, and he’d like to scrub the place clean of that last summer, and turn over every photo because he didn’t come here to live inside a memory of his brother, he came here to clean the blood out of his soul, and Tina –

“Newt.”

His voice cracks. “Yes.”

“Oh, Newt.” She goes to him, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. “Where do you keep going?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just…I can’t go with you, when you do. You’re so far away.”

“I’m trying not to be.”

Tina shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she says. Her hands slide along the front of his shirt, toying with the buttons. Newt hears her breath hitch in her throat, and his hands tremble as they grip her arms. “Do you…I mean, I know it’s early, I just—”

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathes, and kisses her again.

 

* * *

 

The problem with trying to juggle grief and desire and whatever else is rumbling through his heart all at once is that it makes some things…difficult.

He is embarrassed that his body doesn’t seem to want her as much as his head or heart does, but Tina doesn’t seem to mind.

“It’s okay,” she soothes. The windows behind the bed are open, and warm breeze drifts in off the sea, already ushering out the offending scent of Newt’s past, bringing in with it one he might remember for different reasons.

Newt sinks down, and her bare thighs rise up around him. He leans his head against one and says quietly, “I’d…I’d like to watch…”

Tina’s cheeks flush pink. “You would?” He nods. “I…well I’ve never really…not _for_ —”

“You don’t have to. It’s just—”

“I want to,” she says, and sits up enough to be able to kiss him before she reclines against the small mountain of pillows. “I do.”

Newt’s entire body seems go slack – the effort of holding himself up, of walking and moving through this world is like treading cold molasses, and he is _exhausted._ So it is a small salvation to watch, and be completely present for the first time in so long.

Her fingers slip into the tangle of dark hair between her legs, and Tina breathes deep. Newt absently strokes her calves, leaning heavily against her, certain he could not keep his head up even if he wanted to.

Tina’s uncertainly seems to melt with each stroke of her fingers over her clit, and she carefully sinks two inside, lips parted in a quiet moan. She looks to him, and he nods, mouth grazing the skin of her leg, pressing a line of kisses there until he reaches her ankle and his tongue slides against the swell of bone.

She moves faster, now, fingers gaining eager purchase as the muscles of her thighs tense and her legs stretch out, tightening around him. Newt holds on, dropping his gaze to where her fingers dip into her cunt. And though he is suddenly gripped with an urge to _taste_ , to swallow and _have_ – he only looks, and listens.

“ _Newt, Newt, Newt_ –”

He sits up on his knees, laying her legs flat on the bed, and she tightens them together, her free hand gripping the sheets until she brings it to join the other. One set of fingers frantically circles her clit while the other crooks inside her, and it only takes another moment before her body seizes with her orgasm, and she cries out, his name on her lips as she stops, letting the moment wash over the both before she seems to come down from it all.

Boneless, she reaches out to him, and Newt takes her hand, sliding slick fingers into his mouth.

She gives a breathy laugh, and finally pulls him to her. “You need to rest,” she finally says, kissing his cheek.

“I do.”

“Why don’t you sleep?” She pushes the heavy duvet down with her feet until she can get it over him.

“But you—”

“I’m okay,” she murmurs, and kisses his nose before moving from the bed. “But you need to sleep.”

Newt hums his consent and burrows further under the blankets, watching her open one of the bags and pull out something to wear.

She’s still in the room when his eyes begin to droop, and he knows she’s there until he falls asleep because she is the last thing he sees before his eyes finally close, and he feels the familiar heaviness of exhaustion finally take him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i might be getting carried away with these flashbacks but i also don't care so

Newt opens his eyes. He can hear the sound of water lapping the shore, and he sits up, craning to look out the window to remind himself that he did not dream _this_ particular madness. He was crazy enough to come back here, and he was crazy enough to ask Tina to follow him. He looks at the little clock by the bed and groans – half-past noon already.

“Merlin’s beard,” he mutters, scrubbing his hands over his face. Tina’s unpacked their things, and he finds his shirts hanging in the closet, arranged rather particularly, as most things are where Tina Goldstein is concerned. Newt pulls a shirt over his head and pads down the stairs, stopping at the bottom and craning his head to listen.

Tina is at the sink, humming to herself as she cleans. Newt is quite struck by how _lucky_ he is to be here, to have her here, to have her consent in so many things. He drops his head, smiling at the wood floor as she breaks into a bit of song, quiet and endearingly off-key.

He finally goes into the kitchen, leaning against the wall and watching her carefully. She glances over her shoulder and smiles. “The plates were sandy.”

“The sand will never come out of this place,” he says, coming behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you for opening the windows.”

The scent isn’t quite gone, but the place is beginning to change, just a bit. Newt kisses the back of her head before taking his wand and sending the dry dishes into the cabinet. He moves out of the kitchen, meandering around the lower floor until he finds the photos again his mother has stashed here, though there seem to be fewer, now.

“I put some away,” Tina says, coming to stand next to him. “There…there were so many.”

“Thank you.” He takes her hand. “Do you want to go down to the beach?”

She squeezes his fingers, kissing his cheek, quick, before turning to run up the stairs.

 

* * *

 

**_some months previously_ **

*** * ***

“Who are you writing to?” Theseus asks, looking up from his book in their tent.

Newt keeps his eyes down on the page, considering his last line before saying quietly, “No one.”

“Liar.” Theseus whips out his wand, but Newt’s got the counter spell ready, and the letter freezes, caught between his brother’s clever _Accio_ and Newt’s quick thinking. “ _Prat._ ”

Newt snatches the letter back. “It’s none of your business.”

“Everything you do concerning women is my business. Especially when it’s one woman in particular.”

Newt huffs. “You don’t know I’m writing to a woman.”

“I can tell you are,” Theseus says. “You’ve got that _look_ about you. Someone’s on your mind.”

“It’s not…who you think it is.”

Theseus sets his book aside. “She’s married now, you know this.”

Newt closes his eyes, breathes through his nose. “I’m sure Herbert Yaxley is very happy.”

Theseus snorts. “Doubtful. His name’s _Herbert._ ” He leans forward on his knees, grinning. “Can I guess?”

“It’s your time to waste.”

“It’s that auror, isn’t it? The one you got all tangled up with in New York.”

Newt’s quill stills on the parchment, ink bleeding into a perfect circle at the end of a sentence. “…Perhaps.”

Theseus smacks his knee. “I _knew_ it.”

Sighing, Newt sets the letter aside and folds his arms over his chest. “You guessed.”

“Newt, you have a grand total of three women in your life, and one of them is our mother, who _neither_ of us write to because we’re horrible sons. You wouldn’t dare write Leta, you’re not that stupid. Besides.” He folds his hands behind his head. “I read your post before you woke up this morning.”

“Ass,” Newt growls, and snatches up the letter again. “Can’t have a single thing to myself, can I?”

“I’m not going to _steal_ her, Newton.”

Newt turns his gaze back to the letter, but he’s not really writing anymore. He raises a brow before he says gently, “I got to the post before you did yesterday. Are you still seeing Eleanor Prewett, or was that letter just delivered to you by mistake?”

Theseus’s mouth works for a moment before he finally slumps a bit in his chair. “ _Touché._ ”

“You should stop playing around with her and just propose.”

“You sound like our _father._ ”

Newt finally looks up, fixing his brother with a grin until Theseus gives in and smiles back. “Well one of us should.”

*** * ***

 

* * *

 

He lays on the beach, eyes closed and salt drying on his skin as Tina reads to him from _The Prophet._

“You weren’t kidding about Fawley. He really doesn’t think Grindelwald’s much of a threat.”

“Hector was voted in because he was far less serious than the last Minister. He’s got a very _good ol’ boy_ aura about him.”

Tina sets down the paper. “Didn’t I see him?”

“You did.”

“He seemed to…know you.”

Newt opens one eye, looking over at her. “He does. I told you, he was Theseus’s mentor when he was starting out as an auror. When I got my job at the Ministry, Fawley was the head of the law enforcement department. He’s a decent enough wizard, but he doesn’t really take a lot of things seriously. Not sure where all his success came from.” He closes his eye again. “Theseus was…angry with him, the last time we were together. He felt betrayed.”

“That’s what it felt like, back when Graves wasn’t...wasn’t _Graves._ ” Newt opens both eyes now, sitting up on his elbows. “When I was let go, and he did it. I don’t know if I really knew then, or if I was just so upset, but I…I felt that way.” She looks at him. “Percival hired me. He was the one who really urged me to look into the Second Salem movement.” Newt’s fingers find Tina’s in the sand, and she smiles. “It’s alright.”

Newt rubs the sand on her knuckles. “Theseus would have liked you. He enjoyed women who were cleverer than him.”

Tina laughs. “Oh really?”

“Sure.” He looks out to the water. “There’s a girl, back in London. They were…intimate, I suppose, is the word you’d use. Theseus wouldn’t admit outright that he was in love, not to me anyway. I mean he…he said something, but it was right before…”

Tina follows his gaze. A sail boat is growing larger on the horizon, making its way slowly to the shore. “Does she know?”

“I told her.” Newt doesn’t have to reach very deep to recall the noise Eleanor Prewett made when he gave her the news.

A wail, given up in anguish.

She’d cried harder when he told her they’d already buried him.

She’d asked him to leave –

_(“Please go, please, just—”)_

And so Newt went.

 

* * *

 

They dress and walk from the beach into town, picking along the market for something to make for dinner. Tina gets fresh fish and greens while Newt trades silver for bread and cheese. At the house, they set about making a meal, relishing in the companionable silence that trails after them as they work in tandem.

Emboldened by sand and sun, Newt takes Tina’s hands after dinner and turns her, back flush against the counter. “I do promise I had no intention of…of all this when I invited you.”

“You had a _bit_ of an intention,” Tina murmurs, tipping her head back to give him access to the column of her throat.

“Well. _Some_ ,” he admits, grinning against her neck. His hands move under the hem of her dress, push it over her thighs and hips before finding her underwear. “May I?”

“ _Yes_ , Newt.”

“Wonderful,” he says, and draws them down.

Her feet come up to push them off her legs, kicking them to the side as Newt fumbles with the buttons of his slacks and shoves them down over his own hips. Her hand slides between them, wrapping around the base of his cock and stroking gently. He hisses as the cool air from the open window hit sensitive skin.

She works at him for a bit, while his fingers mirror her intentions between her own legs, brushing through dark hair and sliding inside her to test her wetness. When she is slick and ready, he helps her guide him, and a quick thrust is all it takes to buried inside her, completely to the hilt. Tina’s mouth falls open against his shoulder, and she digs _teeth_ into his skin.

“ _Ah—_ ”

“Sorry! Sorry, I—”

Newt growls, drawing out before thrusting back in. Tina clamps her teeth down _harder_ , and he relishes in the sharp jolt of pain for a moment before finding his rhythm as she rights herself, their mouths sliding together as he thrusts. They are bound at those two points – her breath mingling with his as his cock moves in and out. Newt braces himself with one hand on the counter, the other hooking onto her thigh.

“Tina, you—”

“You need to come,” she murmurs, the second time today that she’s known exactly what he needs. “I know you do.”

He nods, pace growing more frantic as heat builds, blooming out and setting his skin aflame. His fingers _squeeze_ , gripping tight onto her leg as his rhythm falters, hips jolting against her more urgently, over and over until he trembles with need and _comes_ , holding himself inside her and feeling himself tumble over the edge, loud and manic.

The noise he makes is unknown even to himself, but it is satisfied and _needy_ and Newt can’t bring himself to be ashamed of it.

“That’s good,” Tina murmurs. “That’s good, Newt.”

He closes his eyes, pants against her neck and murmurs a quiet, “… _Fuck._ ”

Tina laughs. “Mr. _Scamander_ ,” she says, teasing.

Newt…doesn’t feel right.

He draws out and stumbles back a foot, hands quickly trying to right himself. He looks at her – lips red and swollen, neck peppered with kisses and rubbed pink from his stubble. He swallows, wiping the spit that’s gathered on his lips. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.

“For what?”

“I…well, I don’t know.”

Tina bends down, collecting her underwear and sliding them over her bare legs. “Stop doing that. You don’t have to apologize every time you touch me.”

“That was…I shouldn’t have—”

Tina closes the distance between them and kisses him, firm and assuring. Newt’s caught off guard for a moment before he lets himself sink into it, going limp in her embrace and leaning against the wall of the kitchen.

She says against his mouth, “If I didn’t want you to touch me, then you wouldn’t touch me, Newt.” Her teeth pull on his bottom lip. “I never do anything I don’t want to do.”

 

* * *

 

**_some months previously_ **

*** * ***

“This one’s my favorite,” Theseus says. “She knows me.”

“Dragons can’t…can’t be _tamed._ ”

“According to your classifications.”

Newt snorts. “According to centuries of draconology and years of studying and observation.”

“Why is it that _I’m_ the one trying to convince _you_ of the impossible? What are we playing at, Newt?”

“You’re the one coddling a dragon.”

Theseus grins. “I learned from my favorite madman.”

Newt shakes his head. “What’s the plan, Theseus?”

“I’ve told you already.”

“No, I understand the easy part. Or the part you _think_ is easy.” Newt looks over at the Welsh Green at the end of the pack, giving the team throwing food into its pin a hard time. “But you can’t domesticate a dragon.”

“Gringotts does it.”

Newt _scowls._ “Gringotts _tortures_ the beasts, until they expect _pain_ and lash out.”

“Well, we won’t be doing that. I just don’t think anyone’s really tried, you know.”

“Theseus.” Newt steps toward him, putting a hand on his elbow. “You’re my brother, and I love you. I will do anything you ask, and go anywhere you’d like.”

“But?”

Newt sighs. “I suppose but _nothing._ ”

“Don’t you have a _nundu_ in that case of yours?”

“I do.”

“Then you know all about capturing the impossible,” Theseus says. He turns to the Hebridean Black. “I call this one Bertie. Isn’t she lovely?” Newt looks up at the dragon, which seems to lower its head when Theseus approaches, huffing at him. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “She was one of his. He was killing her. I think you…you taught me something. I don’t know where I picked it up. Few years ago I wouldn’t have stopped, but…I couldn’t leave her in that camp.”

Newt steps closer. The dragon seems to consider him before she finally draws back and retreats to a corner of her pin.

“You’ll help me, won’t you Newt? He has more. He’s hunting them, trying to make an army. Fawley doesn’t believe me, and I don’t think half the people here do, either. Everyone thinks I’m mad, but… you understand.” He grips Newt’s arm suddenly. “You do, don’t you?”

Newt doesn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good.” Theseus visibly relaxes. “That’s…good.”

*** * ***

 

* * *

 

He is punished for his brief respite.

Newt wakes in a cold sweat, gasping into the night air. It’s not enough to rouse Tina, but she shifts around him as he sits up, shirt sticking to his chest and arms. He can’t lie here anymore, he’s suffocating in this bed, in this _body_ –

Outside. He needs to be _outside_ , so he goes, making his way down the stairs and onto the porch that wraps around the house. He paces, circling the house, counting his steps, working backwards from a thousand and trying to expel the memory.

He doesn’t want to use the spell anymore, the one that clears his dreams and nightmares. He dreamt of Tina, once, and he wants to dream of New York and Hogwarts again. He wants to remember hippogriffs and giant squids and Jacob and _Merlin’s beard_ he’ll take Leta over the sound of his brother’s body hitting the ground.

Newt steps off the porch into the grass and sand of the yard, making his way down the beach.

There are creatures in these waters, he’s been here on a boat before, though he didn’t go this far south on the coast then. He’d thought about it, about letting himself into the house.

The last time he’d been here he was seventeen, and he and Theseus were driving his mother _mad._ Theseus had been twenty-three, two years into his Ministry work, smug about his recent promotion. Newt had just graduated, on the cusp of eighteen and itching to escape. Trapped at home, they were a collective _menace_ and their mother practically _threw_ them into the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder and shouted, “ _Get out of my house!_ ”

(She’d written, the day after, to say how sorry she was and they were, of course, more than welcome to return home, but only after they’d spent _at least_ a month by the sea, getting all of this wildness out of their blood.)

Newt met a girl on this beach that summer. A sweet girl from Dublin called Arya, who matched him in his experience, but was far prettier than he felt he deserved. They were too young to be doing what they did, rolling in the sand and kissing and pulling at swimsuits and learning each other’s bodies in Newt’s too-big bed in his room, getting sand in the sheets and staying up ‘til after sunrise – but he learned a lot that summer, about a lot of things, and he would think of her later, when he saw her in London and she had a silver engagement ring on one hand and laughed and called him Newton and kissed his cheek.

“Newt?” He turns, and Tina is standing on the edge where the grass meets stand, her arms wrapped around her to guard from the chill of the night. “Newt, it’s so _late._ ”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

She sighs, closing the space between them and looking out at the sea. “You could have woken me.”

“You looked very happy to be asleep.”

“I was,” she grumbles. “But you let the door slam.”

“…Did I?”

Tina sighs, sliding her hand into his own. “Come back to bed.”

“Alright,” he murmurs, turning his head and kissing her temple. “If you insist.”

“I do,” she says, and tugs him back toward the house.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man when this is done i'm writing something happy for the love of god i'm sad. anyway most of this is still me getting carried away with flashbacks.

The side of the house is dedicated to a garden that Newt’s great-grandmother planted after the house had been built. For as long as he can remember, their family has tended it themselves, so Newt is only too happy to show Tina where everything is kept once they get settled a few weeks into the trip.

“There’s tomatoes here,” he says, pointing. “Strawberries there. Zucchini and summer squash in the corner.”

“Flora and fauna,” Tina says. “You’re the whole package, aren’t you Mr. Scamander?”

“I certainly try,” he says.

(They only get distracted a few times, and Newt finds that it is easy to press her against the side of the house and touch until the pressure is too much and he has to pull her inside, bend her over the couch and—)

There is an evening where he does lay her out on the expanse of the hill that crests down toward the sea. A blanket underneath and the stars overhead, he makes love to her there, the both of them bare under the moonlight as his hips roll sharply against her and she gasps her adoration into the night air.

 

* * *

 

**_some months previously_ **

*** * ***

Newt has been staring at the same spot in his tent for forty-five minutes. Since stumbling into the camp, he has cursed three Ministry employees who tried to touch his brother’s body and been subdued twice. Someone, somewhere, has taken his wand.

“Mr. Scamander?”

He looks up, and a young witch is poking her head into the tent. “What?” he croaks.

“The Minister is here to see you.”

Newt stands and follows her to a tent on the far edge of the camp. She pushes aside the flap and he steps in.

Hector Fawley was elected because he was jovial, and relaxed. He looks like neither as he stands there, being debriefed by a handful of aurors on the situation at hand. When he sees Newt he sends them out, leaving the two of them alone in the tent.

Fawley takes him and embraces him fully. “ _Newt._ Shit, Newt.”

“Minister.”

“Here.” He hands Newt his wand. “Don’t…don’t _curse_ anyone else, please.”

Newt sets his jaw. “Apologies.”

“We need to get you home. No one’s told your parents, we’ll take care of that.” Fawley sniffs, bracing himself on the table. “I’ve arranged a Ministry escort for you and…and his body.”

“I don’t want strangers coming near him,” Newt hears himself say, unaware that he had such a strong opinion on the matter. But, he does. And it sounds perfectly reasonable once it’s out there, because why _should_ anyone but he be the one to take Theseus home? Why should anyone be allowed to _touch_ him –

“Your Ministry escort is me, Newt. I’m coming with you.”

Newt turns his gaze down. “Alright.”

“I’m just…I’m not sure what to think about all this.”

Newt has several things he’d like to say in response, but he keeps them to himself, instead swallowing thickly and stowing away his wand.

“Let’s not dawdle,” Fawley says finally. “The portkey should be ready.” He motions for Newt to follow him, and there in the center of camp is an old shoe on a box, and something long and white laid out next to it.

Theseus is resting on a little cot, covered by a sheet. Newt kneels by his head, to make sure his face no longer stares up at nothing.

Mother shouldn’t see him that way.

When they arrive in Newt’s old hamlet, it is in the mortuary. The old undertaker assures them everything will be fine. Newt doesn’t want to leave Theseus there, he wants to take him home because his mother should be able to _see_ , even if he knows it will hurt, but he says nothing. There’s no fight left in him.

He does tell Fawley to stay there, though. To make sure they take care of his brother.

“Shouldn’t I—”

“My father will kill you,” Newt says, not entirely sure he’s exaggerating. His mother had never approved of Theseus having anything to do with Grindelwald, approved even less of Newt trailing after him. But his father had never liked Fawley from the beginning, felt like Theseus did everything to please him, to make him proud.

Newt Apparates to the edge of the Scamander property, unsure if he’s made the right choice in coming. There are a dozen unsavory solutions to this, but at the end of it all, he knows he has to tell the truth. Anything less and he may as well make himself disappear.

It is harder to cross the threshold than he thought, harder still to call for his mother without his voice breaking.

“ _Newt?!_ ” His mother bursts from the kitchen. “Newt, what are you doing home?”

“Mum.”

His father steps into the hall with her, looking him up and down. “You’re filthy, son. What’ve you been up to? Where’s Theseus?”

To his credit, Newt does open his mouth to say it. He wants to speak the words, to remain the strong one here because he knows – _he knows_ – this is going to break them. But he’s been standing on the knife’s edge for too long today, and for the second time, he opens his mouth and the most alien sound he has ever heard spills out, shattering his façade. His mother grips his hands as he sinks to his knees.

“ _Don’t_ ,” she warns. “Don’t you say it, don’t you _dare_ say it.”

“Theseus—”

It is wrong, it is so terribly wrong for him, a damn grown _man_ , to be grasped by his mother and held while he wails like a wounded animal into her neck.

His father sits on the floor and his mother sinks with him, holding Newt in her arms and rocking him back and forth.

There’s a reason he left Fawley behind.

 

— — —

 

The funeral isn’t long after. Fawley stays, and a few of Theseus’s Ministry friends show up. It’s mostly his old school friends, a few teachers and everyone from the hamlet. Dumbledore is there, but Newt can’t really look at anyone. He’s been silent since he broke just a few days before, and they expect him to say something. He was there, after all. He’s the _writer_ of the family.

Fawley says something quite lovely about Theseus’s strength of heart and drive to succeed. There is nothing there about his fifteenth birthday, when he released a flock of doves in foyer, or their months on the coast, or the day Newt got sorted into Hufflepuff and Theseus teased him for weeks over it. Nothing about Theseus warning him about Leta or Theseus telling him about Eleanor –

(“I’ve made a terrible mistake,” he’d said, the day before. He’d been in London, taking care of a few things. He looked at Newt, face rather pale, eyes sunken.

“What on earth did you do?”

“I told Eleanor I _loved_ her. Who _does that?_ ”

Newt laughed. “People who love someone, Theo. Merlin’s beard, don’t be such a git about it.”)

When Newt gets up to speak, there’s a hush that falls over them, and though he knows what they want to hear – _Theseus was my inspiration, I looked up to him and loved him more than one could say –_ instead, Newt opens his mouth and croaks.

“I know you’re all expecting something coherent, but I don’t really have any of that in me. I don’t have anything in me, actually. I feel like it’s all be wrenched out. Like someone’s just gone in and tore out a lung or something.” He sniffs. “There’s stories about love being the oldest magic, but I suppose that must be a load of shit because I loved my brother until the very last second he was alive and it didn’t seem to do anything. Sorry,” he adds. “But I just don’t have anything left.”

 

— — —

 

His mother is distraught when he leaves, and his father really does threaten to kill Fawley, but Newt manages to pry them away. They don’t understand, and he can’t explain it, but he goes back to the camp, Minister in tow, and tries to finish Theseus’s work.

It’s hard. No one seems very inspired, and dragons are called impossible to domesticate for a reason. Only the Hebridean Black seems to respond, so Newt has them put all their efforts into making her a protector. She takes well to enchantments, and she likes Newt.

One night, the Minister asks for him.

“We can’t keep these dragons, Newt.”

“Theseus believed in this.”

“Theseus was unstable.”

Newt clenches his teeth, gripping his wand in his hand. “That’s not true.”

“It’s our official story.”

Newt feels the bottom of this drop out. “You’re…what does that _mean?_ ”

“It _means_ that this Grindelwald business needs to stop. He’s a _fanatic_ , Newt. People like that can’t sustain themselves, they burn out.”

“Minister, I’ve _seen_ Grindelwald in the flesh. I’ve witnessed what he’s capable of.”

“Yes,” he says dryly. “I remember.”

“Just because you’re not willing to admit this—”

“There is nothing to _admit_ , Newt!”

Newt pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is it funds? Is it your re-election? Because when people become more aware of the situation, they’re going to wonder why you didn’t do something about it.”

“I gave your brother this camp, I gave him money, and he went _behind my back_ and took _dragons_ from a madman and now I have to deal with _that._ ” Fawley breathes. “I am shutting this place down.”

Newt feels his face grow hot and his hands are _trembling._ His entire body is shaking. “You _can’t_ —”

“I _can_ , though. And I will. Because the Ministry is not going to stand behind this insanity. We are going to clean up this mess and then were going to _pretend it never happened_ —”

“ _I can’t pretend it didn’t happen my brother is **dead**_ —” Newt’s entire body _aches_ in anger and his wand hand goes up – the table flips, straight into Fawley’s chest, knocking him over.

Two aurors in the tent with them immediately grab Newt and restrain him.

“ _Leave him_ ,” Fawley shouts. “Leave us both, get out.”

“Minister—”

“ _Out!_ ” The aurors duck out of the tent. Newt stands, shaking, as Fawley rights the table and closes the space between them, grabbing Newt by the coat and hauling him in. “Don’t you _ever_ raise your wand at me again, Scamander. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Fawley closes his eyes. “You need to go.”

“Sir—”

“Three weeks. Get away from this place and…and clear your head.”

“Sir, the _dragons_ —”

“I will keep the Hebridean,” Fawley says quietly. “And maintain a skeleton staff here for the time being, until you return.” He lets go of Newt. “Truth be told, the Wizengamot is breathing down my neck. Dumbledore’s worried, so they’re all worried.” He gestures out beyond the tent. “If I leave this in place, maybe it’ll clear up all this Grindelwald nonsense.”

“Nonsense,” Newt spits. “Grindelwald is the reason my brother is _dead._ ”

“And I’m _sorry_ , Newt. But Theseus wanted to be here, he wanted to go on this goose chase.” Fawley sighs and waves his wand, righting all the papers on his desk. He sits at a chair and picks up a folder. “I’ll sign your papers and get you a portkey out of here. Home sound alright?”

Newt swallows. He knows if he stays in this tent much longer, he’s going to say something he regrets. He has already done enough.

But home is oppressive, and he can’t think of a single good thing waiting for him there.

“No,” he says.

Fawley looks up. “Where, then?”

Newt ducks his head fiddling with the end of his wand. “New York, sir.”

 

* * *

 

“Newt? Who’s that?”

In the garden, Newt turns, looking over his shoulder to see someone fiddling with the gate before coming up the hill toward the house.

“Merlin’s bloody beard,” he mutters, dropping his shovel. “ _Professor._ ”

Dumbledore sees him and gives him a jaunty wave, lifting his robes as he treks through grass and sand to the stairs of the house. “Newt!”

“Professor Dumbledore, sir!” Newt meets him in the middle, reaching for his hand and shaking it. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, passing through, Newton. Passing through.” He looks past him. “I see you’re enjoying yourself this summer.”

“Um, yes. Yes, sir. I just…the Minister asked me…well he said he didn’t need me anymore—”

Dumbledore nods. “I’m quite aware of Hector’s misgivings.”

Newt gives a little laugh. “Sir, this is Tina,” he says as they reach the garden.

Tina tugs off a glove and they shake hands. “Nice to meet you, sir. Newt’s told me a lot about you.”

“Has he?” Dumbledore throws a glance in his direction and Newt ducks his head. “Well, I tell people a lot about Newt, I suppose.”

Tina smiles. “Would you like some tea, professor?”

“Oh, certainly.” He looks at Newt. “I like this American.”

She shrugs. “I’ve made a lot of tea this summer.”

“It’s a very good skill to have, when one is being wooed by a Scamander.” Dumbledore winks. “That and a decent whiskey pour.”

Once tea is steeping properly in mugs, they settle down at the kitchen table. Dumbledore spoons sugar into his and takes a sip. “Wonderful, Miss Goldstein. I must say,” he adds, “I’d already heard of you.” Tina raises a brow. “I was given the MACUSA reports, from the capture. And the escape.”

“I see.”

“Your department did a decent job, but you certainly couldn’t have expected Grindelwald to remain. He is a…unique creature.” Dumbledore looks to Newt. “How are you, my boy?”

“…Better,” Newt admits. “I’m…sorry I didn’t say hello. At the funeral.”

“You were not yourself,” Dumbledore says.

Newt winces. “I know.”

“It is understandable. You’re in pain. It hurts in every bone,” he say. “Every second, of every day.” Dumbledore sips his tea. “It will, for some time. But, eventually, you’ll find the pain fades.”

Newt doesn’t ask when. He’s not interested in measuring out his suffering.

“Is there a reason for your visit, sir? Other than just passing through.”

“Yes, actually. The headmaster and I heard that the Ministry was…disavowing your brother’s work.” Newt jaw seems to lock on instinct. He says nothing.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Tina says, turning to him.

“It’s to protect their future reputation,” Dumbledore explains. “Hector is a very agreeable man, when the terms are pleasant. But Hogwarts is quite aware of the danger, and the work your brother did. Taking the dragons was best for everyone. Getting them somewhere safe—”

“What is the point of this, sir?” Newt finds his patience beginning to wear thin. He already knows all this. He was _there._

“The headmaster wanted me to show you this, before it’s placed in the school.” Dumbledore rummages in his robe, muttering a few words before pulling out a wooden plaque.

Newt takes it. “ _Special award for services to the school._ ”

“The world is safe, so, Hogwarts is safer. The headmaster thought this would be a decent way to recognize your brother’s achievements. It’s a gesture made in kindness,” he adds. “Appreciation.”

Newt nods. “I’m sure it is.” He pushes the plaque back across the table. “Tell the headmaster I appreciate the sentiment.”

Dumbledore nods, understanding. He replaces the plaque and finishes his tea. “Well. I won’t bother you any longer.” He looks to Newt as he stands, smiling. “You are living proof, Newt, that there is success to be found in defying the norm. I don’t think the Ministry has finished hearing from the Scamanders just yet.”

 

* * *

 

After Dumbledore is gone, they sit in silence at the table. Newt can tell what she’s thinking, can tell she doesn’t want to push him. And Newt doesn’t want to be pushed, but he doesn’t want to withhold. It is a delicate balance.

He falls over the edge anyway.

“The Minister is going to…to pretend that Theseus acted outside his jurisdiction. He’s dissolved the camp and everything around it. Everyone’s been asked to not speak of it.”

“Speak of _what_ Newt?”

He looks at her. “Theseus and I were rescuing dragons from Grindelwald. He wanted to train them.”

“You can’t—”

“I told him that. But we…we tried anyway. After Theseus died, the Minister came. That’s when I…made a scene. After, we tried again. Fawley had to answer to the Wizengamot, still. Had to show them he was doing _something._ So he kept us around, and we kept one last dragon.”

Tina reaches out and covers his hand with her own. “What happened?”

He looks at the place where their fingers touch, and sees scales.

“Grindelwald…he and his followers…”

Tina swallows. “Okay.”

“She was dead, and I was…unstable. The Minister asked me to leave for the summer and he’s pretending none of it happened.”

“How can he do that? How does he explain Theseus?”

“Accident. If anyone asks. It was an accident. That’s what I’m supposed to say.”

Tina scowls. “That’s dishonorable.”

“Well, there isn’t much honor to go around these days.”

There is a long pause before Tina suddenly wraps her arms around him, and Newt feels so loose and so _tired_ that he melts into her embrace and closes his eyes.

“ _You_ have honor,” she says, and kisses the top of his head. “You’re the most honorable man I know.”

Newt laughs. “You didn’t know my brother.”

“Well. I think he’d be proud, Newt. And I think you should be, too.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /screams
> 
> it's done now.

**_some years previously_ **

*** * ***

“Newt. _Newt._ ”

“ _Stop it._ I’m sleeping.”

Theseus yanks the duvet off the bed. “You can sleep later. Let’s eat and go to the beach, it’s after eleven.”

“Please. Go. Away.” Newt scrambles for the blanket, but Thesues flicks his wand and the comforter sails across the room. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“We’ve got an entire summer to spend here and you’re going to waste it inside, sleeping and feeling sorry for yourself. Let’s _go_ , Newt, come on! We’ve got this entire house. We’ve got our own _beach_ for Merlin’s sake. _We’re a commodity!_ ”

“To who?”

 “Girls, Newt.” He turns and starts heading down the hall. Now get out of bed and put your swimming clothes on. And _do something_ about that hair!”

Newt sits up, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, giving a little huff to blow the hair from his face. Theseus has been trying to get him down to the beach for four days, ever since they got here. It was only a matter of time before Newt finally caved, so it may as well be today.

They eat toast and eggs quickly before jogging down to the public beach. Theseus has an entire plan worked out – he’s going to get himself and his brother a girl each, and they’re going to buy fish from the market and cook them on a fire down by the shore.

“It’ll be romantic, it’ll be chilly. There’ll be wine.” Newt looks over the edge of his sunglasses. “Don’t be so unimpressed, Newton.”

“Why are you so set on this?”

“Because we need to meet a couple of nice girls. What’s the point in _having_ your own beach if you can’t woo anyone with it?”

Newt concedes. “Fair enough.”

* * *

 

* * *

 

Newt wakes, the fringes of a dream still grabbing at him. It’s too early to be up, and Tina breathes softly in her sleep next to him, hand gripping the sheets. He sits up, folding his legs underneath him, trying to decide what to do. Tina stirs.

“Newt—”

“Go back to sleep.”

“And you,” she mumbles, pushing herself onto her elbow. She glances at the clock. “It’s five in the morning.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Please stop being awake.” Newt shrugs. Tina sits up more, bringing her hand up to cup the back of his neck. “Bad dream?”

“Something in between.”

She hums, kissing his cheek. Newt relaxes into the soft ministrations of her hand on his back, closing his eyes and letting his head droop to the side. He feels her shift, and suddenly has a lapful of Tina, who kisses him. When she draws back, he chases, but she puts a finger over his lips. “Let me do this.”

“Alright.”

Tina smiles, rocking back and stretching out her legs, reaching under the hem of her night shirt for her underwear to draw down the expanse of her thighs and toss to the side. She settles into his lap again, hand snaking behind the waistband of his pajama bottoms, fingers grazing his cock. Newt swallows, lifts his hips and awkwardly shimmies them down with her still sitting on him.

“We should just sleep naked,” Tina muses, which startles a laugh out Newt he isn’t expecting. She grins. “I like it when you do that.”

“Take off my pants?”

“Well, that too.” She kisses him. “When you laugh. It’s a good noise. I like to hear it.”

“Have I not laughed?”

“Not enough,” she murmurs. “Not for me.”

“I’ll try more often then, my dear. For your sake.”

“No.” Tina angles her head to kiss his jaw, trailing her lips down his neck. “Do it for you, Newt. Please.” And with that, she takes him in her hand, stroking slowly before lifting herself up and guiding him inside. She has a knee on either side of his legs, body working to accommodate him. Newt opens his mouth to suggest a more comfortable position, but her first thrust reclines him against the pillows, much like she was their first morning here, and it gives her better leverage to fuck him properly.

“ _Tina_ —”

“Let me do this.” She tugs at the edge of his shirt until his lifts his arms and helps her pull it off, running her hands over his chest. He frees her of her own, one hand coming up to cup a breast as the other braces against her hip. Each thrust brings her down onto him with a soft swallowing sound, like water lapping the shore, and Newt can only give himself up to it, surrendering completely to her.

Tina moans, rhythm faltering for only a moment before she picks up her pace, taking him _hard_ , once. Newt shouts, jolting forward and gasping into the hollow of her throat, clasping her to him.

“Tina, _yes_ —”

“I’ve got you,” she says. “See?”

“I know, _I know_ —”

“You’re mine. You’re mine and I’ll—” She groans, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Newt braces himself with one hand on the bed and _pushes_. She lands on her back, legs winding around his waist before Newt sets a bruising pace, fucking into her _hard_ on every thrust. They are both noisy, now, a writhing thing of sheets and limbs. Newt plants a hand on either side of her head and _moves_ , hips smacking against her relentlessly, until the sound fills the air.

“Newt – _yes, yes_ –”

He puts his mouth on her ear, says against it: “We belong to each other.”

“ _Yes_ ,” she breathes. “You know it’s been true—”

She comes. One hand pressed between them, rolling against her clit as he takes her, and she screams, short and loud, clenching around him and digging the nails of her free hand into his scalp. Newt bares this, watches her mouth fall open and captures her bottom lip between his teeth. He tumbles after her, his release messy and defiant, a thing that is pain and pleasure as she scrapes her nails down his arm, leaving angry red welts as he comes.

 

* * *

 

Tina lies on her stomach while Newt traces lazy circles over her back with his fingertips, blowing the hair off her neck.

“That tickles.”

“Sorry.” He kisses her shoulder.

She hums. “Don’t stop.” Newt laughs, and she shifts closer, close enough to capture his lips with her own. “I love you,” she says.

“And I love you.”

“Be nice to stay here forever.”

“I had that thought,” he says. “Just this morning, right before you ravaged me.”

“I think there was a lot of mutual ravaging happening, Newton.”

He kisses her forehead. “You’re quite right, my dear. Would you like breakfast?”

“Please.” She rolls over. “French toast.”

Newt pauses as he gets out of bed –

( _“You can stay for breakfast, Theseus is making French toast.”_

 _“Is he any good at it?” A girl, with red hair, sitting up in his bed wearing an old shirt. She tucks her hands into the sleeves, rolls over to kiss his cheek—”_ )

“Newt?”

“French toast,” he says quickly. “Right away.”

 

* * *

 

**_some years previously_ **

*** * ***

Her name is Arya, Theseus says. “Has a sister, we met last night, actually. After you’d left the pub.”

“I wasn’t allowed to _be there_ —”

“Easy, _easy._ Don’t act like a prat in front of them. Play it cool.”

Newt shoves his sunglasses up and over his head. “I am incapable, according to you.”

“Well, consider me a newfound believer.” Theseus grins and gives him a little shove. “Go _talk_ to her. About something normal,” he adds.

Newt sighs, letting his sunglasses fall over his eyes again as he makes his way toward the girl. She’s very pretty, he sees, and rather familiar.

“Hi.”

She smiles up at him, pats the sand next to her. Newt sits. “Hello. You’re Newt, right?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Leyla told me.” She looks over her shoulder at her sister and Theseus. “We went to school together, don’t you remember?”

“Sort of.”

“We only had a few classes at the same time. I’m Ravenclaw,” she explains.

“Hufflepuff.”

Arya smiles. “So you and your brother are just…”

“Our family has a house, just up the way.”

She reaches up and brings her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, looking over them at him. “ _Really._ ”

“And our own bit of beach,” he says, emboldened for a moment by her reaction, remembering Theseus’s words from earlier. “It’s not much—”

“Oh _sure_ ,” she says. “Not _much._ Just your own private beach.” She turns and calls out, “ _Leyla_. These two have their own beach.”

Leyla looks at Theseus. “Do you _really?_ ”

“Aw, Newt, you’re giving away our secret.”

“Couldn’t help myself.”

Theseus grins. “Our very own beach. You two should come by.”

Arya moves, standing on her feet and putting her hands on her hips. “We should do that _now_ ,” she says. “Instead of sitting around here.”

“Arya, you can’t just—”

Newt stands after her. “It’s fine,” he says. “Right, Theo?”

“Well, if the girls want to.”

Arya nods, gives Newt a wink. “The girls want to,” she says. Then, quieter for just him: “Two can play this game, Newt Scamander.”

Newt flushes, ducking his head. “Don’t let Theseus know. He likes the chase.”

“Leyla’s agreeable.” She bends down and picks up her towel. “So am I.”

— — —

The two of them are watching Theseus and Leyla swim out into the oncoming waves when Arya says quietly, “I heard of you, at school.”

Newt’s head drops a little, and he stares at the sand between his feet. “I’m sure you did.”

“People said you weren’t the one who did that, you know. That it was…that it was that girl. The Lestrange girl.”

“People say all sorts of things.”

Arya shakes her head. “It’s pretty stupid, if you think about it. Taking the fall for someone else.”

Newt turns to her sharply. “Why would you think that?”

“Dunno. Just…wouldn’t a real friend fess up? Wouldn’t they be sorry you took the fall?”

“Doesn’t a real friend take the fall in the first place?”

Arya shrugs. “I suppose that the difference between you and her then.”

“I suppose.”

She sighs. “Well, even if it’s stupid, I still think it was…honorable. I guess.” She looks at him, and Newt feels his gaze soften. “You must really care about her.”

“I’m not really sure what I feel.”

“I understand that.” She looks toward the ocean. “Leyla’s fiancé left her. I’m glad she’s having a good time.”

“Sounds like a real prat.”

“Right? S’what I said before they got engaged, but no one listens.”

Newt snorts. “I understand _that_ ,” he says.

Arya smiles. “Glad we understand each other, Scamander.”

“ _Oy! You two! Get into the water!_ ” Theseus is waving like a madman at them, and Newt stands.

“Shall we?” He extends his hand. Arya takes it.

“We shall.”

— — —

“It’s, um. It’s just that it’s my first—”

“Me, too,” she says quickly.

“I mean, I want to,” Newt says. “I just…if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.”

“Right. Well. Okay, then.”

She kisses him, a little messy and unorganized, but Newt figures it out.

“I want to,” she says again, and this time they’re both smiling, laughing even, as awkward limbs and lips try to figure things out.

“Brilliant,” he mumbles, and goes to kiss her again.

*** * ***

 

* * *

 

“I like this one,” Tina says. “You’re both very dashing.”

Newt takes the photo, peering closely at it. “That’s at my cousin Hestia’s wedding. She was terrible when we were growing up. Mother kept Theseus’s hair longer, past his ears, and she’d pull on it all the time. She used to push me off my bike.”

“Did she marry well?”

“I suppose so. She married a Longbottom, and they’re all rather pleasant.”

Tina taps the corner of the picture. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen? Maybe? I must be, because Hestia got married before I almost got expelled.”

Tina makes a little noise. “Speaking of.” She lifts a photo, and it’s a picture of Leta and Newt, standing together on the platform at the Hogwarts station. “You both look happy here.”

“I think we’re twelve.”

“You look it.”

Newt sighs, sliding the picture out of its spot in the photo album. “Things were less complicated then.”

“Aren’t they always?” Tina leans over and kisses his cheek. “Do you want to go with me into town? I think I want to get some flowers for the place before your mother comes to visit.”

“ _My mother—_ ”

“Read your post, Newt.” She hands him a letter. “It was addressed to us both, by the way. Have you been telling her we’re engaged?”

Newt tears the letter out of the envelope. “This is from _yesterday_ ,” he howls. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tina shrugs.

“Oh, _you_ —”

“Newt, I’m going to town, you _put me down this instant—_ ”

 

* * *

 

He busies himself in the garden while she’s gone, yanking out weeds and tossing a few shells at some curious gulls that land by the squash.

“Go on,” he says. “Fly off.”

“Newt?”

He turns, and standing at the cusp of the garden and the yard is Eleanor Prewett. She’s rather bundled, considering the weather, but Newt pays no mind as he steps over the little garden fence and goes to embrace her.

“How are you?”

“Better,” she says.

“You sound like me.”

Eleanor smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t have a lot of answers to that question,” she says. “Most don’t satisfy anyone, so it doesn’t matter.”

“I know what you mean.” He extends his arm. “Would you like some tea?”

“I would, yes.” She looks around. “Aren’t you here with someone?”

Newt sighs. “Did you go to my mother?”

She nods. “Yes. She said—”

“Tina’s in town getting flowers. Mother’s coming to visit, apparently.”

“She mentioned that. She also told me to tell you to write back as soon as you get the letter.”

“I will,” he says dryly, and pulls out a chair for her at the table. “Aren’t you warm, love?”

“No,” she says quickly. “No, I’m fine.”

Newt shrugs, flicking his wand and setting the tea kettle to work. He settles across from her, and realizes he and Tina have left the photos all over the table. Eleanor stares. “ _Sorry_ ,” he says. “I’m so sorry, Tina and I were—”

“It’s alright.” She reaches out, picking up a photo of Theseus and touching the corner. “It’s good to see him again.”

“You…you’re welcome to take any you’d like.”

She glances up. “Is this recent?”

“A year or so old.” He waves a hand. “Take it, it’s alright.” He watches her slide the photo into her bag. Newt waves his wand and the rest of the photos march into their spots and move to put themselves away. “So. What brings you here? Not that I’m not pleased to see you.”

“I know, Newt.”

“Are you…well. Well I know you’re _not_ , because I’m not, but…are you alright?”

“I’m pregnant,” she says. “So, no.”

“Oh.” Newt straightens. “Oh, you’re—”

“I didn’t know until after you’d come to tell me. I’m _honestly_ surprised anything has managed to survive me since then, but…apparently something has.” And now she takes off her large sweater, then her cardigan, revealing a swollen stomach.

“How…how far—”

“Six months.”

“Merlin’s beard, that's nearly to the day.”

“Well, his last visit—”

“ _Spare_ me the details,” Newt mutters, and she laughs, resting her hand on the little bump just beginning to form. “You’re serious.”

“Quite.”

“Oh, he just had to have the final word on this, didn’t he?” Newt mutters, shaking his head. “How are you, then? Are you set? Do you need anything?”

“I have money, please don’t worry about me.”

“Are you seeing a healer? Do you need someone? My family has one in London—”

Eleanor raises a hand. “I am not without resources, Newt. But I appreciate the offer.”

The kettle whistles, and Newt absently flicks his wand toward it, eyeing the cups as they progress toward the table.

“I’m telling you because obviously you and your family…you’ll need to be a part of this.”

“Of course,” Newt says. “Have you told my mother?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Eleanor holds her cup in her hands. “She cried a lot.”

“She does that these days.” Newt runs a hand through his hair. “Are you busy then, for the next week? Would you like to stay?”

“I can’t. I only barely managed to arrange something to get here. Took me a few weeks, honestly.”

“Right.” He fiddles with his cup. Behind them, the door to the house swings open, and Tina comes in, smelling of fresh flowers and baked bread, pausing as she approaches the kitchen.

“Newt—”

“This is Eleanor,” he says quickly. “She—”

“Oh.” Tina sets down the flowers and crosses the room to her quickly. “Your Theseus’s Eleanor.”

“I am.”

“Then it’s so _wonderful_ to meet you.”

Eleanor smiles. “Do you need help with the flowers?”

“Only if you’d like to.”

“Oh I’d love to,” she says, and gets up to help Tina sort the bouquets.

Newt settles back down at the table, and finally sips his tea.

 

* * *

 

**_some months previously_ **

*** * ***

Theseus puts an arm around him.

“I need you to do something for me, Newt.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to be happy, even if it doesn’t go the way we planned it.”

“You mean if we’re all eaten by dragons.”

“Sure.” Theseus chuckles and folds his arms over his chest. “Look, I know you have your reservations, but I also know you’re giving up a lot to follow me in this. And I just…I wanted to say thank you.”

Newt shrugs. “You’re my brother.”

“And you’ve not always been so keen to trail after me.”

“Sometimes you walk off the wrong cliff.”

Theseus shrugs. “True.”

“But…” Newt digs at the ground with the toe of his boot. “This one I’m willing to follow you off of.”

“Why?”

“Because.” It’s his turn to put an arm around his brother now. “I trust you.”

Theseus grins. “You’ll trust me always, then?”

“I won’t ever stop.”

“And you’ll keep going, if I…if I don’t make it?” Newt flinches. “Oh, come on now, Newt. You know it’s a possibility.”

“I’d…rather not dwell on it.”

“You have to promise, though.” Theseus looks at him. “Do you?”

“Of course.”

His brother nods. “Good.”

“If you…if you promise you’ll keep up with my book. Take trips, you know. Keep it current. If I die.”

Theseus nods. “I promise.”

“Well. Alright, then.”

Theseus pulls Newt into a hug, holding him tight. “I love you, little brother. Don’t you forget that.”

“You’d haunt me if I did.”

“You’re quite right about that.”

Newt laughs. “Well. I love you, too, I suppose.”

Theseus puts a hand over his heart. “That’s all I could ever want, Newt.”

*** * ***

 

* * *

 

“Are you sad about Eleanor?”

“About the baby?”

“Mhm.”

“No. I think it’s wonderful.”

Tina sighs, resting against him in bed and closing her eyes. “That’s good.”

“I tried to get her to stay, but I don’t think she’s ready for this place yet.”

Tina raises her head. “There’s too much of him here, isn’t there? You can feel it.”

“Yes.”

She nods. “What was your last summer like here, together?”

Newt sighs, shifting him arm around her. “We slept late, a lot. Theseus made a lot of sandwiches. I don’t think we wore shoes all season. And there were these girls.”

“ _Girls._ ”

“Sisters. One of them I went to school with, her name was Arya. We were the same year, different houses. We spent most of June with them, until they went home. She was…first, in a lot of things for me.” Newt looks at the ceiling. “This house was always first for a lot of things.”

Tina curls her fingers over his heart, tapping out a matching beat. “I love it here.”

“I know. It’s something else, isn’t it?”

“I want to come again, when we’re done. I want to bring Queenie here. And Jacob.”

“They’d love it.”

Tina looks at him. “This is a place for family,” she says. “That’s what it was always meant for, wasn’t it?”

Newt nods. “I suppose your right.”

She smiles and settles into the crook of his arm. “I’m glad you didn’t come here alone. You’d have been wretched.”

“Haven’t I been all summer?”

“Tolerably so, sweetheart.” She kisses his side. “I hold nothing against you.”

“Glad to hear it.”

They’re both silent for some time, and Newt thinks perhaps she’s gone to sleep, and maybe he’ll steal downstairs for a bit and read until he gets tired. But she says, into the darkness, “Newt?”

“Yes?”

“You know you never have to do this alone, right?”

He nods. _This_ means so many things, in such a solitary, silent moment – grieve, find peace, garden, sleep, remember – all the things they’ve done together since they arrived.

“I know that,” he says. “I know that _now_ , anyway.”

“That’s good,” she murmurs. In another moment, she’s gone to sleep.

Newt rethinks his evening plans, and rolls over.

Her revelation, he thinks, is one that goes both way – and there’s no reason to force her into solitude, if only because sleep evades him.

So Newt closes his eyes, breathes in the new scent of the house – fresh cut flowers, tea and bread, sand and salt –

And sleeps.

He sleeps for a long, _long while,_ until after the sun has risen, and the day has started.

But it’s alright. Just because the day can’t wait doesn’t mean he isn’t ready to face it.

And besides. He isn’t alone.

Not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @ weatheredlaw


End file.
